


Making it Count

by pl2363



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz nearly dies, and Prowl realizes how important his best friend really is to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making it Count

**Author's Note:**

> Prowl x Jazz comm anniversary challenge!  
> Day 27 Prompt 2:nothing lasts forever, make it count

Under cover of dark, Jazz picked his way through the forest. His visor gave him an advantage on this moonless night, allowing him night vision as he approached Decepticon base of operations.

Two weeks prior, Red Alert’s sweeps picked up unusual activity in this area. On a fly over, Skyfire recorded some disturbing footage. A base had been built, hidden deep in the forest, with what looked like a huge cannon under construction. A weapon large enough to level any city on Earth with one blow.

After a lot of back and forth among the command staff, Optimus agreed to let Jazz and a small team infiltrate the base and disable the cannon. There had been fear that if they attack the base head on there might be multiple casualties. This was the best alternative, despite Prowl’s reservations. In fact, Prowl had been dead set against this plan of action, citing probabilities of failure and possible capture. Still, the loss of one for the protection of many outweighed any argument Prowl had made against this mission.

:: In place, :: Mirage commed.

:: Blue, how ‘bout you? :: Jazz asked as gazed at the unguarded back entrance only meters away.

:: You’re covered. I have the door in my sights, :: Bluestreak answered.

:: ‘kay, I can’t see ya in your cloak, ‘Raj, so make sure ya warn me in plenty of time if you see any ‘Cons comin’ my way, :: Jazz said.

:: Of course, :: Mirage replied. :: I have the lock override ready. Just waiting on you.::

Stepping out from his cover behind a tree, Jazz quickly made his way to the back door. Just as he arrived, it hissed open. Presuming Mirage was ahead of him, he made his way into the base. Dampeners on his pedes kept his steps from making any noise as he snuck down the corridor. They’d guessed at the possible interior schematics based on past Decepticon bases. Sure enough, they were as predictable as ever.

A few twists and turns and voila, the control room entrance. Jazz stayed close to the wall, waiting for Mirage to scout ahead in his invisibly cloak.

:: Got one on duty at the monitors, :: Mirage commed.

Jazz frowned a little as he prepared his rifle. He stepped out from the wall and crossed the threshold. Dirge was at the helm. Though, by the way he was slouched in his seat, Jazz wasn’t sure he was even online. Holding his rifle out in front of him, he cautiously approached. It almost looked like he was--

:: He’s recharging, :: Mirage commed.

Shaking his head, he skirted the offlined jet and hooked his rifle on a hip latch. Leaning over the control panel for the main computer, his fingers danced over the keys, pulling up the weapon plans. Flipping his wrist over, he pulled out a cable to jack into the main frame.

:: Hate this part, :: Jazz commented as he plugged in.

A burst of energy slammed his systems as his processor attempted to sync with the computer. He grit his dentia to keep from making any noise. No matter how many times he jacked into a main frame, he never got used to the initiation sequences as they synced.

:: I hear footsteps. ::  Worry bled into Mirage’s voice.

:: Almost done, :: Jazz replied as he simultaneously downloaded the schematics and uploaded a program that would wipe the memory and erase all the protocols, hopefully disabling the weapon in the process.

:: Going to check the hallway, :: Mirage replied.

The upload finished and he unplugged himself, wincing at the wave of dizziness that came with such a sharp disconnect. He commed Mirage again. :: Okay, all done here. Let’s get the fra-- :: Turning he came face to face with Dirge, who had woken up from his nap.

:: Jazz? ::

“Well, well, what do I have here?” Dirge scowled. “What the frag did you do the main frame!”

:: Jazz! ::

“Nothin’ much. Just made a couple improvements,” Jazz replied casually as he quirked a smile.

Dirge predictably lunged at Jazz. A move he easily countered as he dropped down into a squatted position, ducking Dirge’s flailing arms. He then made a wide sweep with his left leg, kicking Dirge’s legs out from under him. Toppling forward, his would be attacker landed face first into the floor plating. Using the momentary disorientation as a distraction, Jazz bolted out of the control room.

:: Two ‘Cons incoming, :: Mirage said, his hand touching Jazz’s arm to let him know he was at his side.

They rounded the corner and were only a few steps from the rear entrance when laser fire pinged the walls around them. Jazz took aim with his rifle. “‘Raj get outta here!”

“Not without you!” Mirage replied.

Ramjet appeared along with Thrust, both firing on Jazz. :: Blue, we got company coming out with us. ::

:: Ready! :: Bluestreak commed back.

Jazz took a few shots, then made for the door. Crossing the threshold back outside, he ran for the cover of the treeline to escape the outdoor lights.

:: Ya clear, ‘Raj? :: Jazz asked as he ran.

:: Right behind you.::

Jazz frowned at the fact Mirage had disobeyed him, but he’d have to deal with that later. Shots rained down from Bluestreak’s position, providing cover as they ran. Just as he reached the edge of the forest a searing heat combined with a sharp pain registered over his sensory net. He stumbled, falling to his knees. Pushing to stand, he fell again. He couldn’t control his legs. It was then the warnings began scrolling over the edge of his visor: Critical wound sustained at lower left quadrant, severed fluid line, shutdown eminent.

“Fraggit!” Jazz flailed, trying to pull himself forward out of the lights with his arms when he felt a weight cover his entire backside.

“Where did he go?” Ramjet asked.

“I lost him!” Thrust shouted.

“Lying overtop of you so my cloak will hide you, Jazz. Just hang on,” Mirage said into his audio.

The world was fading fast. Whatever fluid line had been ruptured, it must have been a main one. He could feel the warm liquid pooling against his plating.

:: Blue, we need back up from the support team, Jazz is hit, :: Mirage commed.

Visor flickering off, Jazz’s body stopped responding to him. The side of his face sank into the cool, wet leaves of the forest floor.

“The loss of one fer the protection of everyone else,” Jazz murmured.

“Jazz, hold on!” Mirage hugged himself to Jazz. “Help is coming. You’ll be fine. You just have to hold on!”

Enveloped into inky blackness, Jazz simply couldn’t hold on anymore and slipped offline.

…

 

The probability of the mission ending with a casualty or capture had been 87%. The probability of Jazz being shot was also high, 56%. But the probability of that hit slicing through a main fluid line while escaping under cover fire was so low Prowl could hardly believe it had actually happened.

“A .05% chance,” he murmured to himself as he stared at his datapad containing the report.

Ratchet’s quick actions when they arrived on scene saved Jazz’s life, but the loss of so much fluid caused several of his internal systems to seize. The repairs he required were extensive and he’d been offline in medbay for several days now.

This event had put some things into sharp focus for Prowl. He’d lost many comrades to this war, and seen many more injured. But this was Jazz. Feelings Prowl had tried to keep a tight lid on were now surfacing. Feelings that went beyond their close friendship. He’d never voiced them, though. Not once. Prowl prefered to stay in an emotionally stable place in order to best perform his job. Tangling himself in a relationship was risky for more reasons than he could count. But almost losing Jazz on this mission... It didn’t matter that he hadn’t told him how he felt, his emotions and secret affections were impacting his ability to focus anyway.

Pushing to stand, Prowl set the report down on his desk, and left his office. He walked the familiar path that led to medbay, thoughts and emotions he wasn’t used to dealing with weighing heavily on his mind.

The glass doors parted as he approached and he proceeded inside.

“No change, Prowl,” Ratchet shouted from his office at the back of medbay.

Prowl stopped in his tracks. Apparently his daily visits were becoming predictable. “May I sit with him?”

“Sure.”

Prowl walked over the private suite area, pausing in the doorway to the room Jazz was currently occupying. Offlined and sans-visor, Jazz was lying in a medical berth, clamped wires running from his body to a set of a monitors. The lighting had been dimmed, which made the monitors and their scrolling information seem extra bright. Stepping into the room, Prowl took a seat on a chair in the corner, folding his hands in his lap.

It was strange to see a normally bouncy, exuberant mech so listless and unmoving.

“Talking to him will help.” Startled by the unexpected voice, Prowl glanced at the doorway. Ratchet was leaned up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “I come in here and tell him about what’s been going on around the base.”

“How is that helpful?” Prowl asked, genuinely curious. After all an offline mech can’t hear anything they say.

“Even when we’re not onlined the environment affects us. By talking to him, it helps his processor know he’s not alone, and gives him a reason to keep healing and come back to us,” Ratchet replied.

Prowl vaguely frowned. “That hardly sounds like it has much medical merit.”

“It has my millena of medical expertise behind it, Prowl. Not everything in life is easily definable. Try it or don’t. It was just a suggestion.” Ratchet pushed away from the doorway and left.

Glancing back at Jazz, Prowl pursed his lips for a long moment before standing up and moving to stand at Jazz’s berthside.

“I’m not sure I see the benefit, but I suppose it won't harm anything, hm?” Prowl said as he gazed at Jazz’s face. “It’s odd to not see you smiling at me.” He reached out, and brushed his fingertips over Jazz’s hand. He felt warm, which was encouraging. “I don’t really know what to say.”

Shaking his head, he dimmed his optics and pressed his hand over Jazz’s. Those emotions he had been trying to keep under tight wraps pushed forward.

“I need you, Jazz. I need you to recover. Without you here I feel--” He frowned. “--lost and very alone. You’re the only one who bothers to check in on me from time to time. I could pass away in my office and I’m sure the crew would only notice once they saw a lack of new duty rosters.” Prowl softly sighed. “I miss your unrelenting presence.”

Prowl glanced at the doorway to be sure no one was near, then curled his fingers around Jazz’s hand. Looking back at his best friend, he felt like his chest was getting tight with all his bottled up feelings. “There is something I’ve never told you and telling you while you can’t hear me is cowardly, I know, but I have my reasons. Jazz, you’ve been so much more to me than simply a friend. You’ve been a light in my otherwise dark world and I love you very much.”

He squeezed Jazz’s hand, then let go.

Spark aching, Prowl rubbed at the center of his chest as he gazed at Jazz. “Please come back to us. To me.”

…

 

The world felt hazy as Jazz onlined his optics. He frowned, immediately aware his visor had been removed. Every inch of his frame felt weird and sort of tingly. Sighing, he glanced over at the monitors beside his berth, trying to make sense of the readings.

“Well, well, look who decided to wake up from his week-long recharge.”

Jazz looked to the door just as Ratchet came into the room. “I was out a whole week, huh?”

“Yep.” Ratchet moved to the monitors, fingers poking at the various screens as he took stock of the current readings.

“Will I make it?” Jazz said, chuckling.

Ratchet glanced over at Jazz. “You almost died, and I’m _not_ exaggerating to make a point. If I hadn’t been on the back up team, you would not be here talking to me right now.”

That was a sobering comment. Jazz vaguely frowned. “Did the mission work, though? The upload kill the cannon?”

“Skyfire returned images of them dismantling the base, so yeah.” Ratchet looked back at the readings. “Does your plating feel numb?”

“Eh, tingly,” Jazz replied.

“That’s a good sign.” Ratchet turned away from the monitors, and removed several of the clamped wires from his frame.

“This mean I’m good to go? Get me my visor and I’ll get outta yer way,” Jazz said, grinning.

“You wish,” Ratchet replied. “I didn’t say you were discharged.”

Half-frowning, Jazz sighed. “Come on, Doc. I’ll be fine. Ya know I hate being cooped up.”

“I know you do. But I am not releasing you until your autorepair finishes a few things, like reconnecting your sensory net.” Ratchet then cast a side glance at Jazz. “Besides it’s almost time for your daily visitor.”

“My wha?” Jazz asked.

“Jazz?”

Gaze shifting to the door, he grinned at his visitor. “Hey ya, Prowl.”

“Before you get mad, he onlined less than a five minutes ago. I would’ve commed you once I was done unhooking this stuff,” Ratchet said to Prowl without looking up.

“How are you feeling?” Prowl asked.

Jazz could tell by his best friend’s tone that he was relieved to see him online, but he also saw that his doorwings were lifted high, which meant he was also worried. “I’m good to go. Ol’ doc is just bein’ overprotective as usual,” Jazz replied.

Prowl glanced at the monitors and an almost imperceptible frown curved his lips.

They’d known each other a very, very long time. Jazz was one of a handful of mechs able to read the subtly of Prowl’s body language. Clearly concerned, Prowl was also putting up his best front to hide it.

“He’s not good to go.” Ratchet coiled the wires up and set them on the berthside table. “His sensory net is still re-establishing connections.” Ratchet shot Jazz a dark look. “If he tried to stand up, he’d learn quickly that he’s in no condition to leave medbay.”

“Awww man. No fair. Two against one.” Jazz laughed, trying to make light of things. All this seriousness was making him uncomfortable.

“I’ll let you two talk shop,” Ratchet said as he pat Prowl’s shoulder before exiting.

Prowl remained standing, looking unsure of himself.

Canting his head, Jazz smiled brightly. “Have a seat, daily visitor.”

Doorwings lifted, then fell as Prowl looked mildly embarrassed. “Yes, well. I was and still am concerned for you.” He moved the chair in the corner of the room closer to the berth, and sat down.

“So my upload worked, though?” Jazz asked.

Prowl nodded. “That portion of your mission appears to have been successful.”

“I didn’t mean to get shot.” Jazz shifted on the berth, plating numb and tingly as he rolled to his side to better face Prowl. Ratchet was right, he was in condition to be going anywhere right now.

“The chances of a shot penetrating a main fluid line while under cover fire was negligible. Not even I could have predicted it,” Prowl replied.

“But your intuition told ya I shouldn’t go on the mission.” Jazz gazed at his best friend, half-smiling.

Prowl’s light blue optics brightened. “I don’t have ‘intuition’, I have a battle computer that allows me calculate the risks of every mission.”

“But life is unpredictable.” He couldn’t help himself. Teasing Prowl was just too much fun sometimes.

Prowl vaguely frowned, showing more emotion now that Ratchet was out of the room. “And you are the most unpredictable factor of all.”

Jazz grinned. “And you love me for it. Wouldn’t life be boring without me around to throw some wrenches into it from time to time?”

He’d expected Prowl to respond with some dry humor about statistics, but instead Prowl looked almost stricken at the comment.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked.

Composing himself, Prowl looked away and shook his head. “Nothing. Perhaps I should let you rest.”

Jazz didn’t want him to leave, though. Unsure what nerve he struck, he decided to bring the conversation back around to something work related in hopes of getting Prowl to stay. “I just woke up from a week-long recharge. Don’t really need any rest right now. What I need is some distraction. So tell me ‘bout the fallout from the mission. And if there’s any good gossip I’ve missed.”

Seeming to relax some, Prowl nodded. “I would be happy to.”

…

 

“Hey Jazz! Come and play human cards with us,” Sideswipe shouted from the corner of the rec room. “Wheeljack made a deck of cards our size to use!”

Jazz smiled as he glanced at Sideswipe and his usual crew, Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, and Blaster. He’d only stopped in to grab a couple cubes of energon before paying Prowl a visit, though.

He sauntered over to the table, holding the two cubes. “Wish I could stay, but I’ve got a hot date.”

“Hot date?” Blaster asked, raising an optic ridge.

“Heh, yeah, me and a certain tactician have reports to file,” Jazz replied.

Sideswipe snorted a laugh. “That does sound ‘hot’. Oh wait, I meant boring.”

“Duty is duty,” Jazz replied.

“Maybe when you finish up? Come back?” Bluestreak asked with a bright smile.

“If it doesn’t run too late, sure thing,” Jazz replied.

Turning away from the table, he exited the rec room and made a b-line for the offices down the hall from teletraan. Truth was, he really didn’t have to help Prowl, but after a rash of attacks on energy plants he knew Prowl was probably waist deep in reports and he wanted to offer a helping hand.

Arriving at the door he found Prowl sitting at his desk with piles of datapads neatly stacked around him.

“I brought ya some fuel,” Jazz said, walking in without invitation and plopping the cube down on the datapad Prowl was reading.

Rearing back, Prowl lifted his gaze to Jazz and vaguely smiled. “Thank you.” Picking up the cube, he took a sip.

Jazz sat down in the chair opposite of the desk and slouched down in it, holding his own cube to his chest. “Gimmie a couple of those. I can read and mark ‘em.”

“Ratchet finally released you from light duty only two days ago and now you want to work on incident reports?” Prowl shot Jazz a dubious look.

“Just wanna hang out with my favorite bot,” he replied with a grin.

Prowl’s doorwings flared a little as he averted his gaze.

Jazz canted his head curiously. Prowl had been acting differently around him since he woke in medbay a couple weeks ago. To anyone else his doorwing movements were meaningless, but he’d learned what some of the gestures meant over the eons. This flaring motion was new, though, and he was having a hard time figuring out what it meant. Maybe he should ask Blue--

“If you insist on staying, the reports from the Fleming power plant are ready for consolidation,” Prowl said, pointing to a stack.

Jazz flashed a grin. “On it!”  

He sat up in his seat and picked up the pile of pads with one hand while taking a long swig of fuel with the other. He set his cube down on the floor next to the chair, and settled in to work on the reports.

“Jazz…”

Looking up he was met with a rare, warm smile from Prowl. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Prowl said with a small nod.

“Anything fer you. You know that,” Jazz replied.

Prowl dimmed his optics a little. “I know.”

 

…

 

“What do you mean ‘flared’?” Bluestreak asked as he prepared his rifle.

Jazz stood leaned up against a rock next to where Bluestreak had set up for his shooting practice at an impromptu gun range a mile or so away from the Ark. In the distance, there were several targets of different shapes and sizes that Wheeljack had cobbled together out of scrap metal in his lab.

“Like up and out at the same time,” Jazz replied, making a gesture with his hands.

Bluestreak made a funny face, then shook his head. “Prowl doesn’t do that.”

“Do what?” Jazz asked.

“That gesture with his doorwings,” Bluestreak replied.

Jazz knew for a fact he’d seen Prowl do it, and was confused by Bluestreak’s denial. “So it _does_ mean something?”

Bluestreak lifted his rifle up to look through the scope. “It’s a flirting thing. A way to show you’re interested in someone.” He squeezed the trigger, taking his shot, then lowered the rifle as he glanced at Jazz. “Prowl _doesn’t_ flirt.”

 _But Prowl did make that motion with his doorwings…_ Jazz thought. “Heh, well, maybe I’ve got it wrong.”

“In all the time I’ve known Prowl, he’s never used his doorwings to flirt. He _barely_ uses them to express anything, really,” Bluestreak replied with a half-smile as his own doorwings lifted up to punctuate the word ‘barely’.

“I must just be mistaking it for something else,” Jazz replied.

He _knew_ he wasn’t mistaking anything. It had been an up and out motion, and it had happened more than once, usually when Jazz complimented him. Was it possible Prowl had more than just friendship feelings for him? It seemed so unlikely. They’d been friends for such a long time. Surely Jazz would have noticed something like that before now... After all, he was tuned into reading Prowl’s body language like no one else. Maybe something had changed recently?

Realization suddenly bloomed in his processor. “I almost died,” he murmured just as Bluestreak shot another round.

“You say something?” Bluestreak asked as he glanced at Jazz.

“Nah. Um, I should head back. Thanks for the talk,” Jazz replied.

“Sure!” Bluestreak replied.

…

 

Settling on his semi-circular couch in his quarters, Prowl placed a datapad on his lap and opened up the fiction novel file he’d been reading. Just after clicking it open, the buzzer sounded. He stared at the door, somewhat dumbfounded. No one visited him here. Odd. He set the datapad down and just as he approached the door the buzzer rang again.

“Impatient,” he said as he palmed the release.

Jazz stood in the hallway and grinned at Prowl. “Heya, Prowl. Mind if I come in a sec?”

“Is there an emergency?” Prowl asked.

“Um, no.” Jazz’s smile faded a little.

Prowl was confused. Jazz never visited him at his quarters like this. “You’re making a social call, then?”

“You could call it that,” Jazz replied. “So... is it okay if I come in?”

“I suppose so,” Prowl replied as he stepped back.

Jazz sauntered in, his gaze wandering around. “Haven’t been in your quarters in a long time. It’s really nice and cozy. Got pictures up and everything.” He wandered over to Prowl’s shelves to take a closer look at the holoframes.

“Well, I do spend most of my off duty time here,” Prowl replied, still unsure what spurred this visit.

“Hey look! It’s us!” Jazz picked up one of the frames, brightly smiling as he gazed at the image. “Primus, this was forever ago, huh?” Jazz’s visor dimmed a little. “Can’t believe you have this image still.”

Prowl moved in closer, peering at the frame in Jazz’s hands. It was from very early in the war, when Jazz had just joined the Autobots and he was assigned the same unit as Prowl. He had gone around taking pictures of himself with each of the mechs on their unit to send home to his family, and copied each of them on the message so they’d have it, too.

“You look so annoyed,” Jazz said, chuckling.

“If I remember correctly, you nearly poked me in the optic with your audio horn when you leaned in to take it,” Prowl replied, smiling a little at memory.

“Oh yeah! I did!” Jazz glanced at Prowl, warm smile on his lips. “Been a pain since the moment we met, huh?”

“More like it’s taken time to adjust your exuberant personality,” Prowl replied.

Standing close, Prowl could just see the outlines of Jazz’s optics beneath his visor as they gazed at one another.

After placing the frame back, Jazz turned to face Prowl and canted his head. “So, uh, yer doin’ the thing again.”

“Thing?” Prowl raised an optic ridge. “What thing?”

“The thing with yer doorwings,” Jazz said with a knowing smile.

Prowl instantly sobered at the comment, realizing he’d allowed his doorwings to flare out and he quickly lowered them. Heat flashed over his faceplates at being caught. “How did you know what that gesture meant?”

Jazz continued to smile. “I have my ways.”

“Meaning you asked either Smokescreen or Bluestreak,” Prowl replied, vaguely frowning.

“Wanna know one of the biggest reasons why we’re best friends?” Jazz asked, unexpectedly shifting the subject. “‘Cause I can read you like no one else. It’s taken me eons to learn the ‘secret signals of Prowl’, but it was totally worth the effort. Everyone else sees an uptight, cold mech who doesn’t ever want to hang out or do anythin’ fun. Know what I see?”

Prowl shook his head, unsure where Jazz was going with all this.

“A mech with a huge spark that does everythin’ in his power to protect those under his command. A lonely mech worried ‘bout gettin’ close to anyone. But that’s not because yer cold-sparked. You do it to stay safe. To not expose yerself to the hurt that goes with losing someone close to you.” Jazz took a half step closer and reached up with one hand, lightly running the backs of his fingers down Prowl’s cheek. “Too late, though, right? You already care about someone like that, don’t ya?”

“Jazz...” Prowl said in a hushed voice.

Jazz cupped Prowl’s cheek with his hand. “I know I care ‘bout someone like that.”

Spark pulsing hard, Prowl shook his head. “Please. This cannot happen. The risks--”

Leaning in, Jazz grinned at Prowl. “It’s already happenin’... And nothin’ worth havin’ comes without risk.” He ghosted his lips over Prowl’s before pressing in for kiss.

Prowl’s processor protested, yelling at him to stop, but his body and spark won out. He returned the kiss, parting his lips for Jazz. Before he knew it, their glossae were entwined, and his fingers curled around Jazz’s waist. Warmth seemed to expand from his spark, overtaking his whole frame. It had been a long time since he’d kissed anyone. But this wasn’t just anyone… This was his closest friend. Was he putting that into jeopardy?

Breaking the long kiss, Jazz chuckled as he swept his thumb over Prowl’s lower lip. “I can hear the wheels in yer processor grindin’.”

Prowl vaguely frowned. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Jazz laughed. “How is this ruinin’ it? If anything, we’re makin’ it better,” he said as he pressed closer.

A tingling sensation flickered over Prowl’s sensory net from the places where their plating touched. “Relationships can be complicated.”

“No offense, Prowl, but everythin’ with you can be complicated.” Jazz nuzzled his nose affectionately. “Look, I'm not one fer plannin' things out. That’s yer job. But life can be cut short any moment, so why not make the most of the time we’ve got?”

Prowl softly sighed. Jazz had always operated under his own logic... “You have a point.”

Slipping both arms around Prowl’s waist, Jazz grinned. “Heh, did I really just win you over?”

“Yes. You’ve won,” Prowl replied with a warm smile.

Jazz leaned in and stole a quick kiss. “Hmm, best prize _ever_.”

Prowl still had his reservations about this working long term, but he had to concede that a relationship built on a solid friendship had a very good chance of enduring.

 


End file.
